


california rollin'

by erebones



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Surfers, F/F, all the alternate universes, does this count as interpsecies sex?, mermaid au, mermaid chirrut, this is no longer recognizeably rogue one and i'm not sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 10:40:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11311692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erebones/pseuds/erebones
Summary: Chirrut is a mermaid. Baze is a surfer chick. Can I make it any more obvious?





	california rollin'

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GreyMichaela](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyMichaela/gifts).



> Hal was so relieved at the lack of fish sex in my last mermaid au that Aaliya dared me to write fish sex and then I HAD TO. Hal, this is for you. Thanks to Rox for the encouragement and the fish puns that kept me going.

Baze takes her board down to the tideline in the early evening when the water has grown calm in the arms of the half-moon bay. The others laugh and jeer at her good-naturedly from their cozy spot by the campfire, but she waves them off. She’s got other things on her mind.

Chirrut is waiting for her beneath the dock, rolling over and over in the warm shallows until her tail flashes green and gold in the cloudy water. When she hears Baze coming, her soft footfalls shifting in the damp sand, she pulls herself up in the waist-high water by the dock’s edge, grinning with a mouthful of brilliant white teeth. Baze props her board against the dock and steps into the water.

“You’re wearing clothes,” Chirrut complains, reaching for her. Webbed fingers close around a loose strand of hair and tug her closer, and Baze comes, warm hands smoothing over Chirrut’s soft, damp shoulders, the round smoothness of her cheeks. Mother-of-pearl glints in her smile and Chirrut tilts her head. “I guess I can forgive you this once.”

“I told you, this isn’t a nude beach. That was _one time_ , and one time only.” Baze thumbs Chirrut’s soft lower lip and smiles. “Come on, let’s swim.”

The water enfolds her like warm silk as Baze dives forward into the blue. She is clumsy and frail beside Chirrut’s grace but Chirrut never mocks her—Baze is a strong swimmer, for a human, but it’s hard to match the raw power of Chirrut’s tail, the precise instincts that drive her through the water at improbably speeds. But Chirrut slows herself for Baze. Twirls lazily just below her, or pops up to float when Baze pauses to tread water. She would never dare to swim this far out on her own, but with Chirrut she is safe.

When the sun dips beneath the ocean in a pool of crimson, staining the sky with her colors, Baze drifts in Chirrut’s arms to the other side of the bay. The beach is empty here, bordering on a wildlife preserve. Where the long grass runs down the sand to the sea like a whispering green river, Baze pulls herself up onto shore and flops onto her back, exhausted in the best way. Her limbs ache from a day of surfing and swimming, and she can feel her cheeks stinging with sunburn. She stretches her arms out over her head and watches Chirrut coming toward her on her hands.

On land, Chirrut is a little bit awkward, a little bit out of place. She moves her tail more like a snake than a fish, undulating heavily to propel her forward, but it’s tiring; she flops next to Baze in the grass with a sigh, fins fanning out to catch the dying light in their semi-translucent weave.

When she sprawls, she sprawls on Baze. Her skin is cool to the touch, but underneath her body is warm, warm and bright and full of life. Baze can feel her heartbeat beneath her ribs, the flutter of her gills as they seal themselves against the open air. She runs curious fingers along their edges and Chirrut flinches away, giggling.

“ _Don’t_.”

“Sorry, sorry.” She directs the course of her hand, stroking down the length of Chirrut’s arm to tangle their fingers together. The webbing between her fingers is soft and papery when it dries. Baze rubs it gently between thumb and forefinger and Chirrut curls her hand into a loose fist, smiling against her shoulder.

“You humans are strange,” she murmurs, not for the first time. When she tugs away from Baze’s exploratory grip, Baze lets go without protest, watching as Chirrut feels the outer seam of her spandex shorts. “You are much lovelier when you are naked.”

Baze snorts, eyeing Chirrut’s wandering hand. “You’re welcome to take it off, if it bothers you so much.”

Chirrut’s head pops up. “Really?”

Baze shrugs. “You’ve seen it all before.” She sits up on a whim and tugs off her bikini top. The air feels chilly to her damp skin, and her nipples are tight, gooseflesh rising on her breasts and arms. Chirrut stares. Shameless as ever. Baze grins and lies back down, arms behind her head. “Well?”

“Well, what?” Chirrut asks. Her voice is thin and stretched with intrigue. She reaches out and rests her hand tentatively on Baze’s stomach, just above her navel. “Just… give me a moment.”

“You’re adorable.” Baze reaches out and cups her cheek, and Chirrut blushes. “Can I have a kiss?”

Chirrut’s eyes light up and she leans in, squinting slightly. Outside of the water, with the light of day still clinging to the sand, her sight isn’t very good—Baze watches her dark pupils expand slightly behind her thick lashes as she gets close. Their noses brush, and Baze presses her mouth to Chirrut’s. It’s a soft, warm, leisurely kind of kiss; a world of improvement over their first. Chirrut hadn’t ever kissed a human before Baze, and it took some patient education before kissing her was _good_. But even when it was bad, Baze enjoyed herself. Chirrut has never been anything but enthusiastic.

When they part, Chirrut licks her lips and Baze feels her heartbeat pick up speed. “May I kiss your breasts?” Chirrut asks politely. The concept of _checking in_ was another early lesson, one that Chirrut learned well. A little _too_ well, maybe, but her earnest questions are endearing. Baze strokes her cheek and nods.

“Have at it.”

Chirrut smiles shyly and bows her head. Down on the sand, her tail flops happily as she peppers gentle kisses to Baze’s collarbones, her sternum. One hand comes up to cup Baze’s full breast, and a moment later she feels the flick of a curious tongue. She stares at the open velvet sky and tries to catch her breath, warm between her thighs.

Chirrut’s hair is short, and it dries swiftly in the warm air, puffing into a little black halo around her head as she nuzzles and mouths at Baze’s breasts. Baze threads her fingers through the short strands and hums encouragingly. At her waistband, she feels an impatient, querying finger.

“Want help?” she murmurs.

“It’s stuck to you,” Chirrut complains. “Like a mussel in its shell.”

Baze snickers and worms her way out of her shorts. The seams have left pink lines behind, imprinted into her skin; Chirrut traces them with her fingers and then with her tongue, and Baze gives a low groan.

“You know how I feel about beach sex, Chirrut.”

“Well you shouldn’t have let me kiss you on the beach, then.” In spite of her petulance, Chirrut lifts up on her elbow and relegates her free hand to petting Baze’s calf, squinting at her against the sunset. “Would you rather not?”

Baze sits up. “I didn’t say that. Here. Lie down.” She presses Chirrut gently into the grass and swings astride her waist. The place where her human half meets the rest is amorphous, a blur of soft, shimmering scales dappling skin, and it’s silky-soft against her inner thighs as she leans down and kisses Chirrut’s half-open mouth. Chirrut always tastes a little bit salty. Baze licks at her lower lip and withdraws a little, admiring the pink flush staining Chirrut’s cheeks. “How’s this?”

“Mmm. Perfect.” Chirrut lifts her hands, cupping her own breasts briefly before turning her attention to Baze. Ever curious, her hands skim Baze’s ribs and belly before landing on her thighs, stroking her hips and squeezing the extra heft of fat over muscle. “Show me, Baze? Please?”

Baze kisses her cheek. “You’re very good at it, you know. You don’t have to be afraid.”

“I don’t want to mess up,” Chirrut says staunchly. She wiggles her fingers and Baze sighs, caught between laughter and rolling her eyes. But in the end she takes Chirrut’s hand, the webbing soft and pliable to the touch, and brings it between her legs. At her urging, Chirrut rubs her fingertips slowly back and forth, moving slickly along her labia. Baze huffs and ducks her head to mouth at Chirrut’s neck.

“There,” she whispers. “There is just right.”

Chirrut pants for breath, dark eyes pinned to Baze’s face as she explores. Her movements are careful, uncertain—she’s done this before, for Baze, has brought her to orgasm with hands and mouth, but there’s always a part of her that’s afraid of doing harm. The ocean teaches roughness, hones sharp edges; on land, she is still learning to be gentle.

The dew of sweat is rising to Chirrut’s flushed skin, saltier even than Baze’s own. She licks it from the slopes of Chirrut’s breasts, from the ridges of her gills, firmly shut now, but still sensitive to touch. Chirrut quivers, slips a second finger in beside the first. Baze pauses to breathe, rocking down against the sweet intrusion.

“It’s good,” she breathes before Chirrut can ask. “Oh, lovely. You’re so good at this.”

Chirrut bites her lip, tail writhing in the sand. So easily pleased. Her other hand comes up to cup Baze’s face, feeling the stretch of her mouth, her punchy exhales whenever Chirrut’s fingers move just right inside her.

“I,” Chirrut says, and stops. Her nostrils flare on an inhale, and she gives a soft cry when Baze squeezes her breasts gently.

“What is it, darling? Tell me.” One hand sinks into the soft, grass-covered sand beside Chirrut’s head; the other she drags down, between her breasts, past the little knot of her navel to hover at that nebulous place between girl and fish. _All Chirrut._ “If you don’t tell me what you want, I can’t give it to you.”

“My—my,” Chirrut stammers, and then her voice devolves into a curious jumble of shapes, clicks and whispers that Baze has come to recognize as the language of Chirrut’s kind. “I don’t like your word for it,” she huffs at last.

“What? Cunt?”

Chirrut sniffs like she’s smelt something spoiled. “ _Pussy_.”

Baze barks a laugh. “That’s fair.” She smooths her fingers down, stroking the thin, silk-soft fins that begin just below her waist. Hidden there, like the secret inner parts of a tightly-furled flower, is Chirrut’s sex—the proper word doesn’t quite exist in English or in any human tongue, but the purpose is familiar. Baze finds the slippery edges with her thumb and strokes her, watching as Chirrut’s face blooms red like the sunset. “Is that what you want?”

Chirrut nods mutely, then pauses. “I want to reach you, too,” she says. There’s an edge of petulance to her voice, and Baze leans down to kiss her pout away.

“Stay there,” Baze instructs. “I’m going to try something, and you can tell me if you don’t like it, okay?”

“I like everything we do,” Chirrut says, but she withdraws her hands from Baze’s body and waits.

Baze touches her lower lip one more time, just to see her smile, and sits up, turning carefully until she’s sitting facing the ocean. Chirrut’s tail spreads out before her against the sand, a deep, inky blue-black; gold and flashes of crimson glint along her sides and in the semi-translucence of her fins. Baze had been a little afraid to touch this part of her, in the beginning. It was so foreign, she hardly knew where to begin. But just as she had taught Chirrut how to please _her_ , so Chirrut had done the same, and now Baze moves with confidence, stroking her pelvic fins with gentle fingers until Chirrut is making soft noises, shifting restlessly in the sand.

“Get _on_ with it,” Chirrut rasps, gripping the back of Baze’s thighs. Her nails are sharp, more like claws than the tips of human hands, but she’s careful not to puncture the skin even when she’s playing rough. She slaps her tailfin against the beach when Baze dips a finger into her sex, between the folds of her fins. “Baze…”

“Easy, easy… don’t throw me off,” Baze murmurs. She soothes her with long strokes to her hips and stomach, and lowers her head. “I’m going to sit on your face, okay?”

“Is this another human sex practice you’ve been withholding from me?” Chirrut inquires peevishly, but she’s already grabbing for Baze’s hips, leaving behind faint stinging trails where she grabs a little too hard. Baze’s mouth is too busy to answer. She holds her open with both hands, tongue sweeping shallowly in short little strokes to avoid cutting herself on the edges of Chirrut’s fins, and holds her breath.

A moment later she feels the tentative curl of Chirrut’s tongue between her legs. She shuts her eyes and tries to breathe normally through her nose, focusing on what she’s doing. Though sex with Chirrut is always a little bit dangerous—she’s sharp in unexpected places, even at the height of arousal—it’s all the more rewarding for it.

This, for instance. Baze shies away from thinking about it too hard (“Wait,” Jyn had said when Baze confessed to it, “so what’s it like, eating out a _fish_?”), and just enjoys herself. Chirrut is salty almost everywhere except for here. Here she is sweet, musky, and very much like a human woman, in spite of the tail. Her clit is like a round pink pearl, and responds the same way that Baze’s does when aroused; her folds are warm and inviting, and welcome Baze’s mouth and fingers the same way Baze’s do when confronted with Chirrut’s eager touch.

The contented flapping of Chirrut’s tail had taken some getting used to, but now Baze hardly registers the difference.

Now it’s getting increasingly difficult to focus on anything at all. Chirrut’s tongue is clever, her fingers dragging little patterns on her hips and ass that send her blood pounding through her veins; when Baze moans, Chirrut redoubles her efforts, and soon Baze is rocking against her face without any subtlety, panting out her pleasure into Chirrut’s sex.

The end comes on her swiftly, and Baze holds her breath, shutting her eyes against the last few glints of sunlight dying on the water’s tremulous surface. Pleasure swallows her up, igniting her from the inside; she gasps and digs her free hand into the sand, and lets it wash over her like the tide, dragging her under without resistance. Pleased with herself, Chirrut hums into her cunt and licks the last traces of arousal from her before slumping back into the beach grass. Her tail swathes lazily from side to side, a gentle reminder. Baze breathes deep and bows her head again.

“Baze,” Chirrut sighs. “Careful… careful.”

Her voice is thin like a reed, a little bit guttural. She loses her grasp of English the closer she gets to the edge, and when Baze pulls her mouth back and rubs furiously with two fingers, Chirrut shouts a stream of lush, uninterpretable chatter until she comes, salty-sweet water spurting warmly against Baze’s hand.

“How was that?” Baze asks, moving stiffly off of her to curl up at her side. Chirrut’s tail sweeps sideways to tangle with her legs, and she bows her dark head to Baze’s shoulder. “Satisfactory?”

“We should do this… face-sitting more often,” Chirrut pronounces sleepily. The lethargy is only temporary, Baze knows—another minute or two and she’ll be awake and alert, and ravenous as a shark. Ready for another round, too, if previous experience is any indicator. “I like being smothered by your…” and she rattles off another bit of ocean-speak as Baze giggles into her hair.

“Smothered? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Pff. As if. _But_ ,” she adds, perking up suddenly, “if we did it underwater I could breathe with my gills and it wouldn’t matter how hard you sat.”

“ _Chirrut_.”

“What? It’s true!” She snorts and runs her fingers delicately across Baze’s belly, stroking the soft down. “You humans and your strange mores. You’ll happily sit on my face, yet you don’t want to discuss it afterward.”

“You didn’t even know what face-sitting _was_ before today. I don’t want to hear it,” Baze declares. The sun has disappeared altogether, leaving behind a soft lilac sky that stretches overhead like a pale, transparent tent. She can feel Chirrut’s heart beating against her arm. She shuts her eyes. “I should be getting back.”

There’s a moment of quiet. “Five more minutes?” Chirrut asks hopefully. Another human phrase that she learned from Baze that Baze can’t quite bring herself to regret.

“All right. Five more minutes.”


End file.
